


Trapped Where It Happened

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Substance Abuse, dukat mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: In which Garak smashes a lot of shit and is very uncooperative, and Doctor Bashir isverypatient.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Trapped Where It Happened

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [300 Credits](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371373) by [CastellanGarak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastellanGarak/pseuds/CastellanGarak). 



Now that his implant was permanently turned off, there was nothing to dull the distress that plagued Garak. The numbing effects of liquor were nothing in comparison to the wire, and Garak’s supplier of triptoceterine had been compromised soon after Bashir had learned that Garak had found access to restricted substances. 

Garak stormed about his quarters, growing more and more agitated. He had already smashed all of the things available to smash. He was trapped in exile. Trapped on Terok Nor-Deep Space Nine. Forever trapped in the disgusting smile of Gul Dukat. Forever in fear of the relatively realistic possibility that Dukat could return. Garak was stateless. Deep space 9 was the only place in the galaxy he could live without having to fear deportation (and consequently internment when Cardassia didn’t want him back). He could not flee the place his adversary could one day return to. He was trapped and now he had to face it without the wire.

Garak went to the replicator and had it create an empty plate. He threw it to the ground, and it made a satisfying smash. He replicated another and another, throwing them at the walls like frisbees. 

His door chimed and he ignored it. “Garak, open this door,” ordered Odo.  
Garak replicated another plate and threw it at the door. It splintered in a pleasing manner.

Odo overrode the door. Garak stood across the room with a disturbing grin on his face. His hair and clothes were disheveled. His eyes were wild. “Constable, how nice of you to drop by!”

Odo stepped into Garak’s trashed quarters. “I have received several noise complaints from your neighbors.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why.”

“Have you been smashing- what were these- plates? Why are you throwing plates around your quarters?”

Garak looked away from Odo, cooking up a lie. “I thought I saw a rodent. Ah, well it seems to have disappeared now.”

Odo harrumphed at that. Garak crossed the room and tried to usher him out. “I do apologize for the commotion. I had no idea that I was disturbing my dear neighbors. I won’t throw anything else tonight, I promise. Goodnight constable.”

Odo did not permit himself to be ushered out. “Why were you really throwing plates?”  
“Does it truly matter?” Garak said in a passive aggressive tone.

Odo studied Garak for an uncomfortable ten seconds. “Are you going to harm yourself?”

Garak burst into surprised laughter that turned into sadistic laughter. “My dear constable, now why would I do that!”

“You are extremely agitated, and I suspect that you have not regained access to your… usual methods of coping. Others at a similar level of distress have been known to hurt themselves or attempt suicide.”

“Next you’re going to ask if I plan on killing anybody!” said Garak.

“Are you planning on killing anyone?”

“My dear constable, surely you would not expect anyone to tell you if they were planning a murder.”

“Garak,” Odo said in an unimpressed tone.

Garak sighed dramatically, “I assure you constable, I have zero intention of harming anyone on this station. Now, if you will kindly let me be, it’s late. I should be getting to bed.”

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

Garak went uncharacteristically silent and avoided Odo’s gaze.

Odo sighed and tapped his com badge. “Odo to Bashir…”

“No!” shouted Garak, trying to stop Odo’s hand. “Leave me alone!”

Odo rolled his eyes. “Garak, calm down”

“I don’t want your ‘help’ or the doctor’s. Get out of my quarters!”

Garak tried to push Odo, which proved difficult because Odo was a gelatinous substance.

“Bashir here,” responded the doctor over the com.

“I need your assistance in Garak’s quarters,” said Odo, struggling with Garak.

“On my way!”

>>\--------- o ---------<<

Garak paced back and forth in a line like a caged animal amongst the shards of broken plates that littered his quarters. Odo stood at the door, his arms folded.

“You’re bleeding,” said Doctor Bashir, watching Garak pace and trying to scan him each time he got close.  
Garak ignored him.  
“Let me at least give you a sedative."  
Garak laughed. “You’re offering drugs to me? I’m afraid nothing you have to offer would be strong enough.”

Bashir watched Garak pace back and forth in silence for a while. After twenty minutes of pacing, Garak started to calm down. His pacing slowed and stopped. Bashir stood up and tentatively guided him to sit on the sofa. Bashir nodded to Odo, and the constable left the room. Garak sat still while Bashir scanned him fully. “Will you let me treat your cuts now?”  
“I suppose. I may have gotten a little carried away.”  
Garak removed his thick, long-sleeved shirt. He had cut himself intentionally on his arms. Bashir pulled out a dermal regenerator from his med-kit. “What was going through your mind when you did this?” he asked in a neutral tone.

Garak looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t feel aggressive anymore, just exhausted and hollow. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

He let Bashir run the dermal regenerator over his arms. “Talk to me Garak. You can obscure the details as much as you want, but at least tell me what’s going on.”

Garak sighed in a resigned manner. “I don’t feel safe,” he said. “Back when this station was Terok Nor, someone did something awful to me that I’d rather not discuss. I find myself worrying about… what came to pass… happening again.” 

“Who was it?” asked Bashir quietly.

“Who do you think?”

Bashir frowned, “Was it… Dukat?”

Garak indicated yes with his face.

“What did Dukat do to you?”

“He used his power and influence to get certain… favors from those under his jurisdiction.”

“Favors?”

“He had many Bajoran lovers. He would give their children and husbands food in exchange for their companionship. He was gentle, unlike the other Cardassians who sought out the ‘company’ of Bajorans.”

“So, by ‘favors’ you mean sexual favors.”

“As a Cardassian, I was able to move freely about the station. But as a man exiled from Cardassia, I had no standing. There wasn’t anything stopping me from being transferred from tailoring to ore processing.”

“So Dukat used the threat of being transferred to ore processing to pressure you into doing sexual favors for him,” said Bashir, reading the subtext.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Garak.

“All right,” said Bashir. “You don’t have to tell me the details if you don’t want to.”

“I really don’t.”

“Tell me what you are feeling then.”

Garak crossed his arms protectively. “I’m not sure.”

“You seemed very angry earlier.”

Garak snorted in amusement. “That is a mild description.”

“Give me a better one.”

Garak looked sideways at Bashir. “I feel trapped. I don’t feel safe.”

“You’re feeling scared,” Bashir offered.

“Well, yes,” Garak said, looking directly at Bashir.

“So, is it that you are afraid of Dukat?”

Garak stood up abruptly. “I am NOT afraid of Dukat!”

“Take it easy Garak,” Bashir said, holding up his hands in a placating manner.

“I’m not in the mood to talk about my feelings,” said Garak, pulling his shirt back on. “Spare me the psychobabble and let me be. You’re not helping one bit!”

“All right, all right.”

Garak walked over to his window and turned his back to Bashir. The doctor let the silence between them hang in the air.  
Garak breathed deeply and slowly. He looked out at the stars. He could see Cardassia’s sun, a pinprick of light in the vast vacuum of space. 

“What do you need right now?” asked Bashir.

_For you to leave, _thought Garak. “I’m afraid, I don’t have any helpful answer to that.”__

__“You said that you don’t feel safe. What do you need in order to feel safe?”_ _

__Garak turned around and smiled charismatically. “I doubt you are up to the task.”_ _

__“I meant besides Dukat’s severed head in a bag.”_ _

__Garak laughed. “That certainly would make me feel better. To answer your previous question, I think I need some sleep.”_ _

__“That’s a good start.”_ _

__Garak went into the refresher and got ready for bed. When he came back out, the doctor was still there. “I’m not going to cut myself again tonight.”_ _

__“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll wait for you to settle down and then I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow.”_ _

__“You are… persistent,” said Garak, rolling his eyes._ _

__He got into bed and dimmed the lights. He was thankful for Bashir’s presence. It was calming. He was exhausted from smashing all of those plates and fighting Odo. He drifted off into a restless sleep._ _


End file.
